


my soul, unsatisfied

by amsves



Category: Original Work
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Grief/Mourning, Love, Poetry, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:55:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26244532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amsves/pseuds/amsves
Summary: undoubtably loved yet doubtfully lovable
Kudos: 2





	1. grief poem

**grief poem**

I.

things happen to me

happiness

sadness

anger

they roll off of me

like raindrops on an opened umbrella

dripping down all around me

but never getting me even damp

once in a while an errant drop

will strike my cheek

but that is the exception

not to be expected or counted upon

II.

when one receives news

of a death in the family

what is the normal reaction to have?

is it wailing

gnashing of teeth?

is it a desperate anger

bargaining

denial

or any of those other famous stages?

or is it simply numbness

like the news was never received at all?

III.

i find myself incapable of sharing my misfortune

time and time again

i open messaging apps

only to close them

before sending anything to anyone

what does it matter

what good will telling friends

acquaintances

bosses

roommates do

their sympathy

will not bring back the dead

the very idea of their pitying looks

their hushed tones

their eggshell approach

makes me want to join the dead

instead of telling anyone

IV.

and so i rot

in silence

in solitude

blinking back tears

typing halfhearted poetry on my phone

being jostled by the bus

eating

sleeping

going through the motions

V.

my everyday apathy

is only aggravated

by the idea

of new emotions

the gaping maw in my chest

aches more than usual

is this an improvement?

something to be desired?

or just another sign

that i am not meant for this life

after all?


	2. i went to a graveyard today

**I went to a graveyard today**

I went to a graveyard today.

There’s one just down the street from my house, after all. It’s a shame I don’t visit more often. The air was warm, the rain just parting. The world was very green and gray.

At first I felt like I was intruding, walking among the stones and (almost certainly) over bodies. But I was just visiting. There was no reason to feel this way. Some of the grave markers in the back corners must not get many visitors. My presence should be welcomed.

I walked, and I walked, and I kept walking over various crisscrossing paths. Some were paved, some were dirt, some were sand, some weren’t paths at all, but merely an accumulation of foot traffic. I walked, and I read, and I thought. I don’t know anyone buried here, but I know these names. Every building around here is named after M——— or C———. I know a J—— or a W—— myself. I’ve never heard of V———, I wonder who they were?

A little while into my walk, I realized that the graveyard was much larger than I thought it was. I supposed I had never spent much time in it or around it before, even though I could be there from my home in less than five minutes on foot. I walked, and I walked, and I walked, and I kept looking towards the horizon, but the gravestones never seems to end. It was an unending sea of green and gray. And so I continued on.

I saw large stones, impressive stones, with full names and dates and whole families, epithets and fond words. And I saw stones that were barely the size of my hand, only large enough to scratch a few initials into.

Stones that towered, tall as I was, and stones that I nearly stepped on. Stones with beautiful bouquets, and stones that no one had visited for years.

I thought there might be something here. That’s why I didn’t turn around and go home. I thought I must be able to find something, perhaps the reason I visited at all today. I didn’t know what I wanted to find. I almost didn’t know that I wanted to find anything. As far as I knew, I was walking, I was looking, but for what?

Cars raced by on the street to my right. The crosswalk chirped once, twice, three times, four. Doves cooed. But despite all of that, there was a profound stillness, a profound silence, that I felt almost uncomfortable breaking with my noisy footsteps, with my sneakers over pebbly ground. With the occasional words I uttered out loud, and with the fast majority I kept inside my head.

I kept getting bitten by mosquitoes. Eventually I turned around and went home.


	3. on writing

**On writing**

When I was younger I used to write all the time

Loose leaf paper, composition notebooks, even paper napkins. Nothing was safe. Every available surface was covered in words. It came so naturally, back then. It was like breathing. I had stories to tell, and I simply told them.

When I got a little older I stopped sharing them, because I was self-conscious. They weren’t that good anyways. Not good enough to bother others with, in any case. But I didn’t stop writing them. They were for me, if not for anyone else. I enjoyed them.

Then I got even older and I got rid of all the stories. Into the recycling bin went canvasses from years past. They weren’t that good anyways.

But now, in the future, I would give almost anything to have them back. Sure, they were cringey and corny and repetitive and boring and melodramatic and and and

But they were mine. They were an outpouring of love spanning days, weeks, months, even years of hard work and dedication and enjoyment. And I tossed them because I didn’t think they were that good anyways.

The pain of that loss is almost unbearable.

If I could scale a mountain to get my stories back, I would. I would complete any insurmountable task to be able to read them one more time.

But they’re long gone, ground into dust. Gone to wherever recycled paper goes.

And I will never forgive myself.


	4. except

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> suicide tw

i would kill myself

except for my fear of getting blood on the carpet  
except even when i doubt God is real i’m terrified of Hell  
except i don’t want to cause someone the pain of finding my body  
except i don’t want the next person who lives in my dorm room to wonder if it’s haunted  
except part of my identity has always been that i'm gifted, intelligent, capable of anything, and i can’t have people second-guessing those attributes after my death  
except except except

none of these are good reasons  
the kind of reasons you see in motivational posts  
the kind of reasons a person _should_ live for  
i am surviving out of fear and guilt and a sense of obligation

but if i say them loud enough and often enough maybe they will suffice


	5. normal

how am i supposed to just be normal? how am i supposed to just not be in love with you? how am i supposed to just get over it when i can see our future together? i can see it!! i can see you working too hard and me coming into your office and resting my chin on top of your head, i can see you cracking a smile even though you’re trying to keep a straight face, i can see you waiting to pick me up from the airport with a cheesy sign and i can see me running straight into your chest and wrapping you up in a hug because i missed you. i can see you staying up too late even though we were going to go out to breakfast the next day, but we push it to lunch so you can get the rest you need. i can see the cat jumping up onto your lap and the dog nosing your elbow looking for attention and you acting annoyed but you love it. i keep getting diaper ads on youtube videos and i can’t help but imagine us raising a family together, picking out baby names and coming up with ridiculous combinations just for laughs. i can see me picking a random name and your face screwing up before you explain the story of someone you dislike with that name, and me laughing and agreeing that we couldn’t ever do that to our poor child. i can see me trying so hard not to run down the aisle because i want to get up there so badly and stand next to you. i can see you coming home from work looking haggard but i can also see the worry lines melting from your face when you smell your favorite food wafting from the kitchen. i can see us dancing to our favorite songs played from our phones in the living room, and trying not to trip on each other or the pets or something we left lying around. i can see us living in some tiny place we can just barely afford, and i can see us living in our dream home. 

so tell me, how can i just be normal when i can see all of it? and when i can’t see anything else through the tears?


End file.
